


Sheep's Clothing

by Aurorealis



Series: Hobbit prompt fills [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Community: hobbit_kink, Dragon!Bilbo, Eventual Romance, Gen, Kink Meme, M/M, Prompt Fill, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-12 23:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1204264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurorealis/pseuds/Aurorealis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo has his own motivation for travelling with Thorin Oakenshield's company. His motives have nothing to do with treasure and entirely to do with the great dragon sleeping on top of it. More specifically, Bilbo needs to shed the hobbit body he is trapped in, and for THAT, he needs a dragon. A fire drake to be precise- much different and decidedly more rude than the ice wyrms of which Bilbo is a proud member of. </p><p>Actually wanting to help the dwarves for the sake of helping them would come later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quest begins

**Author's Note:**

> this is a fill for a prompt over on hobbit_kink. Here's the link to the prompt, which was too long to include in the summary- 
> 
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/10731.html?thread=21821675#t21821675

“An adventure? Really Gandalf?” Bilbo gave the wizard a firm glare, hustling him inside the front door so he could slam it shut and give them some privacy. “This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain greedy lizard, now would it?”

Gandalf, for his record, looked a little sheepish as he nodded. “Of course. You always knew it was going to happen eventually. And now, I have a company that can take you there.” 

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Yes, I used to think it was going to happen. But then I spent two centuries in the shire. Nice, quiet, peaceful days in the shire. Besides, what kind of group would be willing to go anywhere near that crazy bastard? No thank you, Gandalf. No adventures for me.” 

“Do you truly mean to say that you prefer this form over your true one? What would your kin say if they knew the last of the great ice drakes of the southern glaciers had been stuck in the form of a hobbit for so long that he became more hobbit-like than even the hobbits?” 

“Why, Gandalf, I'm sure that my being a hobbit would come as no surprise to Belladonna and Bungo Baggins, nor to my many hobbit family members.” 

Gandalf chuckled, shaking his head. “You've really taken your adopted surname to heart, haven't you? What happened to the eager young drake, recuperating from near death and determined to reclaim his real body?”

Bilbo snorted at this. “He realized that continuing to breathe is more important than getting all fat and scaly. In fact, I think I remember back then,someone telling him that the trek to Erebor would be a hopeless fools errand? I think the words were 'you'll be torn limb from limb before you even reach Mirkwood'?”

“Yes, I did say that, and it was true- back then. You didn't have anyone to accompany you, and you weren't healed yet. It takes many years of rest for a dragon's core to recover. Even more so when the core was so close to destruction that you had to be forcefully shape shifted. Now however, you are healed again. I could feel your energy even at the outskirts of Hobbiton. And equally important, you wont have to make the journey alone” 

Bilbo snorted again, louder. He turned his gaze to the side. “You assume too much.” Then he paused, rubbing his throat with a finger reflexively. To tell the truth, Bilbo knew Gandalf was right. For the past decade, he had increasingly felt his power returning, edging closer to his skin. How long had it been since he last called on the ice of his soul? Just the idea made him nervous. Using one's inner ice when it wasn't completely healed was deadly. It was the very reason that most of his kin perished, the very reason that Bilbo was in this hobbit body now.

“What is this company you speak of?” Bilbo asked finally. This earned him a smile and a pair of twinkling eyes. “Why, I'm surprised you haven't figured it out already. Who do you think has the motivation to travel all the way to the lonely mountain?” Gandalf stood up from his seat, carefully picking his way to the door again, his head bumping into an archway in a rather un-wizard like fashion despite his efforts. 

Bilbo froze for a second before jumping up after Gandalf like a fire was lit under him. “Dwarves!? Gandalf, are you mad? A bunch of dwarves escorting a dragon to the very home that was taken by a dragon!?” 

Gandalf laughed openly as he reached a hand to the small round door. “Don't worry, they don't know your true form. So long as you keep your frost to yourself, you'll be fine. I'll be over later to work out the details, if that's fine.”

“Wha- that is very much not fine! Gandalf, my answer is still no, you hear me!?” Bilbo sputtered as Gandalf ignored him, stepping out of the smial. Bilbo groaned, knowing that the crazy wizard wouldn't be leaving it at that. “Look,” he whispered, lest any of his hobbit neighbours were nearby. “I appreciate you looking out for me, but I'm really rather comfortable as I am. I would much prefer to leave well enough alone, especially if dwarves are involved.” Gandalf raised an eyebrow, still irritatingly not speaking. “Well then, I hope I have made my point clear. You are welcome to stop by later, but I'm afraid my answer will still be no. There will be no working out of any details. So, if you will, good morning!” And Bilbo shut his door behind Gandalf. He could only hope that was enough to settle things.

Why Bilbo thought there was any chance at all of anything that wizard did being settled in a way that wasn't dreadfully complicated was beyond him. His real title shouldn't be “grey pilgrim”. "Grey shit disturber" was more like it. 

Which was precisely why, when Bilbo's night was disturbed by a burly dwarf introducing himself as Dwalin, son of Fundin, Bilbo was both surprised and entirely un-surprised. Because of course Gandalf was going to send his dwarves over to Bilbo without asking first. Otherwise Bilbo would have been able to refuse. But as it was, hobbit sensibilities had truly rubbed off on him in a big way, and Bilbo couldn't just turn them out. Especially when it was revealed that Gandalf had promised them food and a place to rest at Bag-end. 

So Bilbo couldn't do anything but mentally yell at Gandalf while offering Dwalin his supper and disappearing into the pantry to pull out more food. He had to assume now that they would all be coming. Then it struck him- how many dwarves were there? He slipped back out to the kitchen to ask, noting as he did that Dwalin was tearing into Bilbo's offered dinner as if he hadn't eaten for a week. 

“There's thirteen of us, not counting the wizard.” Dwalin responded gruffly between mouthfuls of fish and greens. Bilbo sighed inwardly. If they were all as hungry as this one, his entire food stock would be ruined. Maybe he would take the ensuing grocery bill as a loan against them. They could pay him back with all of that dragon gold. 

Soon enough, Dwalin's brother Balin came in, and then two energetic lads named Fili and Kili. Bilbo had no idea when the rest would be coming, and set to cooking immediately, trying to ignore the dwarve's rudeness. Really, they were guests of a host who was being extremely generous, given the circumstances! Even if he were just a regular hobbit, this would be unacceptable. But given the circumstances, it was downright absurd. A bunch of dwarves, whose home had been invaded and hoard stolen by a dragon, were now invading the home of a different dragon, stealing a very different hoard. 

Yes, Bilbo referred to his food as his hoard, and was quite un-sarcastic about it, thank you very much. It was one of the many ways of the hobbits that Bilbo had grown to love over the years. Nothing to change your perspective on life like a couple centuries trapped in the body of the weakest and smallest of all the humanoid races. 

Bilbo managed to get a few dishes done in as large a scale as he could handle before the door was knocked again. It wouldn't be enough to feed all of them yet, but hopefully enough to put off the worst of the hunger cramps. He nodded to the older one- was it Balin?- who had thoughtfully lent a hand in preparing the food for cooking when he saw Bilbo lugging his entire pantry to the kitchen. The other three dwarves only did so much as drag some tables together and haphazardly pile some dishes onto it. Balin thankfully took over Bilbo's job of mincing the vegetable mixture for the meat pies while Bilbo left to the door.

A dog pile of dwarves, along with one grey wizard greeted him upon opening the door. “This all of them, then?” Bilbo asked with resignation, doing a quick headcount. “Oh, nevermind, we're missing one, aren't we?” Bilbo corrected when his count came up short. Gandalf raised an eyebrow. 

“I asked. And really, Gandalf? Thirteen dwarves and you failed to tell me? I can scarcely deal with them trashing Bag-end. They're completely decimating my hoard!” The dwarves clearly had better things to do than sit around and listen to Bilbo attempt to lecture Gandalf, and instead made their way to the kitchen. Bilbo bit down an unpleasant comment as he remembered- those pies needed to get in the oven, and his helper needed to go back to preparing the potatoes.

“I think you are dealing with them just fine. And your 'hoard' would have gone to the next hobbit's birthday party, lest it go bad anyways.” Gandalf added unhelpfully. Bilbo vindictively ignored him, turning to his task as the dwarves crowded around the table and tearing into the food that was already there. 

The next time that Bilbo brought his eyes to the kitchen table, it was to bring several trays worth of meatpies along with a couple more side dishes to the table. He had to elbow his way in, as not even shouting “hot tray” could get him some space. Finally, he found an opening, and not two seconds after placing it down, dwarven fingers snatched at the flaky crust of a nearby pie, yelping at the heat. 

Bilbo turned his eyes up to scold the hand's owner, only to pale as he saw the sight. Dwarves shouting, laughing stuffing their faces, he expected. Dwarves throwing food back and forth, half not ending up anywhere near their mouths, he was not. 

“W-wasting food?!” Bilbo squeaked, half caught between horror and rage. “Your wasting my food!” He decided to go for anger. “I'll have you know, I spent quite a lot of effort making that, the least you could do is give a modicum of respect!” He was being ignored. Oh how Bilbo wished he could spit some frost their way, bite their toes with frostburn so they would listen to him. And maybe he could someday, but the crippling fear of pain and death stopped him. No, he remembered quite well the last time he had tried to use his ice while in his hobbit body. 

Instead, he did what he could. And that was to flit around the dwarves, attempting to speak over the racket. Bilbo had never felt to out of place. Regardless of being a supposedly strong, prideful dragon, he was in the form of a hobbit. And hobbits were small, weak, non-vicious creatures. He couldn't help being a little intimidated by these creatures, who despite not being significantly taller than him, were still much bigger than him.

And then they started with the knives and the plates. Not belladonna's china! “You'll blunt them!” He finally cried, not expecting to get through to them, but hoping he would anyways. Finally, they did take notice of him. But just because they heard him, didn't mean they were going to really listen. 

“Oooh, do you hear that lads? He says we'll blunt the knives!” They then proceeded to get much worse. Bilbo couldn't do anything but flail his arms a bit as dishes went flying through the air as they sung a lively tune about ruining his smial. Those ungrateful, inconsiderate rocks-for-heads. Not even rock with useful ore inside of it. Just plain, dumb rock.

But thankfully, as stone-headed as they were, they did manage to not break any dishes and in fact stacked them neatly in a pile. Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief. He was even more relieved when the door knocked again, and the dwarves settled down. Their last member, and their leader if Gandalf's commentary was anything to go by (unfortunately, such was the case for the majority of things that came out of Gandalf's mouth). Bilbo opened his front door, about ready to forgo his hobbit politeness and make a remark about being fashionably late, but was forced to stop at the sheer presence of the dwarf. 

He walked in purposefully, as if he owned the place. He was also quite tall for a dwarf, like several other members of their merry band. How did so many exceedingly tall dwarves end up in one group, anyways? Even if he hadn't already figured out that this dwarf was the leader, he would have been able to tell easily. He commanded an almost regal presence, fit for royalty. 

“This is Thorin Oakenshield, leader of this company on their quest to reclaim Erebor.” Bilbo froze, ice flooding his veins in a way that had nothing to do with his core. Mechanically, he turned his head away from Oakenshield- the bloody king under the mountain- to the one who had neglected to tell him necessary information- again.

“Gandalf! Are you-” He cut himself off, because of course the wizard was completely mad. “Of all of the- I was expecting Ereborian nobility, but- Oakenshied!?” Bilbo stuttered, feeling quite faint. If any dwarf had a grudge on all dragons, it would be this man. What if he realized Bilbo's true form, he would be shredded to bits! Bilbo felt a little faint. 

Oakenshield only grunted in displeasure at Bilbo's reaction, stepping in further to insult Bilbo's appearance. Almost numb, Bilbo didn't react as Oakenshield strode towards his company and the group began to discuss their quest. By the time Bilbo had composed himself, Gandalf had already passed Oakenshield an old looking key, and they were discussing their need of a burglar. Bilbo immediately knew where this was going, and so tried to nip it in the bud, pointing out how such a soft weak hobbit had no place on such a dangerous journey.

Unfortunately, they all shut up when Gandalf scolded them with a spot of illusion magic, and Bilbo was promptly handed a bulky contract. Bilbo made a short play at reading it- truthfully he was not particularly interested in anything they had to offer him. He had no desire for treasure, that was left to the fire drakes who had the luxury to have the time to hoard baubles mined and refined by weaker species. The ice drakes, on the other hand, lives in the barren southern ice shelves, cut off from the rest of middle earth. It was true that the hoarding instinct was common to all drakes, but it had always been lesser and not centred around humanoid riches for those of the ice. Though truthfully, Bilbo didn't actually know what ice drakes actually hoarded, he had been hatched in the very same war that eventually wiped his race, not exactly a good place for one's frame of reference.

He skimmed over a few of the many terms of his demise. “Evisceration... incineration?” Just the memory of it all- the searing breath, fiery fang and claw piercing flesh, letting the heat in- Bilbo's mind flashed, and he saw it again. His birth mother's blood boiling from the inside as her core was melted in a matter of seconds, then those great golden eyes peering at him, cruelty dripping from them and engulfing him along with roaring dragon fire. 

Bofur, the hatted dwarf, thought his shaking and heavy breathing was due to simple fear of the words, and tried to edge him on, describing just how he could be killed by fire. Furnace with wings, indeed. Bilbo bit at his lip viciously to stop himself shouting. He knew very well what it was to face a fire drake, Bilbo wanted to yell. Maybe it was painless to you dwarves, but it certainly wasn't for his kin. It took full minutes under the hottest dragon fire to melt one's ice core. He wanted to scream at them- did they think they were the sole experts on such a death? Had they survived a complete, uninterrupted lungful of fire from the very same dragon they hoped to slay? And then managed to slip through a crevice created from the melted rock, within an inch of their life and crawl to safety while in that state?

Bilbo struggled to get both his memories and his body under control. It wanted so desperately to faint, and Bilbo was half prepared to indulge it. But instead of surrendering to the dizziness in his head, Bilbo called out. “Gandalf, can I speak to you privately for a moment?” 

Gandalf smiled and agreed, “But of course, Bilbo. Shall we move to your study for a moment?” Despite his calm words, there was a hint of concern in them. Likely, Gandalf knew precisely what was going through Bilbo's mind. 

The second the study's door was shut, and Gandalf had made sure there would be no eavesdroppers, Bilbo let his breath out in a sudden groan. “I can't do it, Gandalf.” He admitted.

“You can, Bilbo. Dragon or not, I wouldn't be here if you couldn't do it. Besides, it does not matter if you think you can or not, for you must.” 

“And what if I really am fine with staying in this body? Sure, I wouldn't mind it back, but I don't need it. I would miss all of this.” Bilbo gestured around him. “I may be no Smaug, but I would still be much to large to fit in bag-end.” 

Gandalf gave a small, sad hum in agreement. “That is true. But you have to realize, this is your first, last, and only chance to get your body back. You know how much power it took to put you into this form, and you know what it will take to get you back out of it.” 

Bilbo shivered. “Yes, I know. It has to be fire, greater than that of any forge. I remember your words clearly back then. Can I not just go after a different fire drake later?” 

Gandalf gave Bilbo a stern look. “I thought I also told you there weren't any other fire drakes left.”

“You don't know that for sure.”

“I can be sure enough. Listen to me Bilbo, your only choices are Smaug or Mordor, and the lava of Mordor will kill you even as it restores your form. What will you do, if you don't come and Smaug is slain? You will lose the last path to your body that doesn't guarantee death.” 

“And how do you know it doesn't?” Bilbo snapped. “I've been on fire before, Gandalf, and I don't think my core will ever fully recover. What if the second I turn back, it kills me?”

Gandalf sighed wearily, looking very much like his ancient age. “That is a chance you have to take. But for what it is worth, I believe you are wrong. And you know Belladonna would have wanted you to try. As much as you love hobbits now, you aren't one and you never have been.” 

Bilbo shifted guiltily. He didn't need to be reminded of her, or of Bungo. They had taken him in, and though it was for a comparatively short time, even to his years as a hobbit, they had come the closest to being surrogate parents. It was true, loathe as he was to admit it, Belladonna would have been smacking his head with rolled up parchment as she shooed him out the door. 

“The journey will be perilous enough, even before Smaug. A hobbit is small and weak, even with a dragon inside of it. And unless it's from Smaug's flame, I will go down with this body. Can you even promise that I will make it there?” 

“No,” Gandalf answered simply. “No, I can't.”


	2. leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo contemplates his real reason for leaving, and a touch of the past

In the end, Bilbo knew he didn't have much of a choice. As he lay awake, Bilbo tried to take in the atmosphere of Bag End as much as he could. There would be no returning to it if he went on this journey- whether he succeeds or dies. Bilbo can't help a quiet sob, a few tears trailing down his cheek. 

There would be no more visits with old Took, no more babysitting the little nieces and nephews. He wouldn't be able to talk to any of the hobbits again, seeing as they would probably run in fear from him. They would be right to as well, dragons didn't exactly have the most pleasant reputations. He couldn't even argue the difference between fire and ice wyrms, since he honestly didn't know how his race would have reacted to middle earth's other sapient races. The southern pole was far too isolated for any encounters, and then they were wiped out. 

Truthfully, Bilbo might be looking forward to that the least. It was easy enough to heal the pain of being the last of his kind when he was a hobbit. He could pretend that he truly was a hobbit, and surround himself with his adopted kin. But there would be no denying anything if he succeeded. 

Plus, it didn't help that Bilbo had been thrust into his hobbit form at the young age of of 100 years. For a dragon, that was just on the tail end of childhood, entering the awkward not-adult-not-child adolescent phase. He had spent a little over twice that length of time as a hobbit. If he were in his dragon form, he would just be entering adulthood, as adolescence took a larger proportion of time for dragons than many other races. 

And what of the dwarves? Bilbo didn't know what state he'd be in once he transformed. Seeing as the transformation would be under dragon fire, Bilbo couldn't imagine it being full strength. If he couldn't get away in time, he would end up skewered along with Smaug. Ice drake hides were similarly impenetrable as those of the fire drakes, but Smaug's breath could melt his scales. They actually had, in the past. 

Did Gandalf really have to wonder why Bilbo was hesitant to reclaim his body? 

But it wasn't just his body, it was the dragon himself. Gandalf was careful not to mention it, but it sat there, roiling under the surface. He had a vendetta against the fire drakes, Smaug specifically. In fact, it was even more justified than the dwarves of Erebor, of course not to trivialize the loss of their home. It was just that, at least the dwarves survived. They were not a dead race like he was. And Smaug was the one to off Bilbo's mother, and nearly off Bilbo himself. All in a days work apparently, because it was soon after that when Smaug took Erebor. 

At least part of Bilbo's revenge was already met- Smaug was a dying race, too. Their wiping of the ice wyrms had not been without consequence, and the severely weakened race was wiped out in turn by the humanoids. If nothing else, Bilbo could find amusement in the fact that the destruction of their biggest threat was the direct cause of their own demise. Stupid slugs. 

However, Smaug still needed to face retribution from Bilbo personally. He wasn't naturally a holder of grudges, but being nearly killed, and having one's family killed, was enough for this exception to be made. While Bilbo felt no need to wield the killing blow himself, he still very much needed Smaug to die. It was that, more so than getting his true form back, that eliminated the option to stay behind. If Bilbo didn't come, there was a fair chance the company would fail, and then who would stand against Smaug? No, Bilbo needed to lend himself to the cause, no matter how much he wanted to get out of it.

When Bilbo ran out of the house that morning with the signed contract, he pointedly ignored Gandalf's knowing, unsurprised look. 

Bilbo would be lying if he didn't say the journey had him scared out of his wits. Gandalf had reminded him several times, when given some privacy, that Bilbo should be capable of some limited ice powers. Enough to ensure his safety, anyways. But Bilbo refused to try for as long as he could help it. The last time he had tried, it was only a year into his hobbit body. The pain had been so excruciating, and Bilbo (though he wasn't known by that name at the time), was bedridden for weeks. 

So, even though he felt the ice just below his skin, singing clear notes of energy, he resisted. Even when he was facing the stone trolls, Bilbo could not bring himself to act. He wanted to pretend that it was merely his fear at being caught with unexplainable powers, but he could not deny the truth- that he was simply cowed by paranoia and memories of pain. 

When Gandalf handed him the elfen blade, Bilbo almost laughed at how out of depth he felt, holding it. To think that a dragon was afraid of wielding a letter opener. But then again, he was really more hobbit than dragon anyways. 

Just on the tail of that event, came another. Radagast the Brown came tumbling in on a sled pulled by rabbits. Radagast, one of those who had lent their considerable power to change Bilbo's form and save his life. Radagast had left for his home again just after Bilbo was out of critical condition, and hadn't seen him since. But even that impaired state had been enough for Bilbo to remember, and he smiled brightly as Radagast approached. 

It had, however, been a little over two hundred years, and Bilbo did look every part the common hobbit, so he would not have been surprised if the brown wizard had simply forgotten. Bilbo had actually assumed so when Radagast paid no attention to any one of the company, instead urgently addressing Gandalf.

But then he twitched, scratched an ear, and whirled around to stare at Bilbo in confusion. “Is that- aren't you-” Recognition flashed across his face. “Yes, you were in a right state back then, no surprise you look so different now.” Bilbo beamed, pleased to once again meet one of those who had saved him. Just as Bilbo was about to greet him, he was interrupted. “I'm surprised you are travelling, Bielkur. I heard you preferred the quiet of the shire.” 

Bilbo froze, panicking for a moment. Bielkur. He hadn't heard that name in a long time, though he supposed he should have expected it. Radagast had been long gone by the time Gandalf had given him the name Bilbo to better blend in. What kind of hobbit name was Bielkur, after all? Then Bilbo realized that he had taken too long to react, and was about to launch into a rushed lie, but Gandalf had taken care of it already.

“Oh, Radagast, Bilbo stopped using that nick name long ago. Though I suppose his fauntling days to not feel so long ago to us, it embarrasses Bilbo greatly at times.” Radagast tilted his head at Gandalf, probably not quite understanding what he was going on about. But then he simply nodded. Whether or not he understood the delicate situation of keeping the dwarves out of the know concerning Bilbo, he was content to follow Gandalf's lead. 

Bilbo covered up his nervousness with a sincere greeting, wondering if any of the company suspected something. What if they could recognize dragon names? The ice drake language was very similar to those of fire, like two dialects of a common language. Who could say how different or similar their naming practices might be?

But luckily, non seemed to respond in a significant fashion. That either met that they either bought the lie or kept their suspicion to themselves.

Whichever it was, the arrival of the wargs and the subsequent chase was surely enough to remove the slip from further scrutiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the name, I was put on the spot by the sudden realization that there is no way in hell any dragon was ever named Bilbo. And he was with his actual parents for long enough to have a dragon name. But still, this is Bilbo Baggins here, and thus I didn't want to name to sound too different. Thus, Bielkur. It sounds sufficiently dragon-y while also being somewhat similar to Bilbo. That way, we can pretend it went the other way around, that Gandalf thought "How can I turn Bielkur into a hobbit-y name?" 
> 
> also that entire section of inner contemplation at the beginning was written entirely because I got sad the more I thought about Bilbo's situation in this story. And now I want to hug him


	3. Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the company has some down time in Rivendell. Or, the exposition chapter

Bilbo was pleasantly surprised again to meet Elrond only moments after entering Rivendell. He probably shouldn't have been, seeing as they were in his city, with a king and a wizard in their company. But whether or not he should have seen it coming, it was still odd to see yet another of the very few who knew of his true identity. The same few who used their power to bind his soul into hobbit form. No one who still walked middle earth knew what he really was.

Well, Bilbo supposed that was fair, since the existence of ice drakes was not common knowledge, and the possibility of putting such a creature through a shape shift even less so. He followed the company to the dining halls, thankful that Elrond was much more subtle than Radagast. He only allowed for the slightest of nods in Bilbo's direction before turning around to lead them. Not that Bilbo had anything against Radagast, it wasn't his fault that he wasn't used to dealing with people and secrets. Elrond had not just the company to contend with, but an entire nation of elves who had as much a clue about Bilbo as the dwarves, despite their advanced age. 

Bilbo mused further, as he took a seat and tried to ignore the dwarves being completely rude, yet again. Really, his hobbit sensibilities and dragon pride were both riled up at the behaviour. Wasting food! Being rude to hosts! He turned his head down sharply to his meal. It was no wonder dwarves had such a reputation for being brutes. They probably had their redeeming qualities, but it wasn't exactly showing right now. And for all that he didn't like the actions on their own, the food throwing and rabble rousing wasn't the worst of it. It was the fact that they were fishing for a reaction. Though Bilbo knew it was an uncharitable thought, he was no longer surprised to find no one worried about the dwarves noticing the dragon right under their nose. But alas, it was an unfair judgement to make, so Bilbo simply snorted to himself and continued eating his meal, completely ignoring Fili's curious look from beside him.

As it turned out, the company was to spend at least a few days in order to rest and restock, to the dismay of most of the dwarves. Bilbo wanted to scowl at their exaggerated displeasure. If one was going to make such an effort to dismay their hosts, one might as well try to enjoy it. Still, there was no sense in being hostile, so Bilbo calmed down some and was surprised to find that the company had become more open to him than before the trolls and the chase. It turned out that when not throwing dishes around or 'accidentally' tripping you, Bofur was fun to talk to. When not being shadowed by his older brother, Ori was a polite and inquisitive soul. When taking breaks from being the main source of noise and action, Fili was actually somewhat mature. When not trying to imitate or otherwise out-do his brother, Kili was an avid listener.

The others, Bilbo assumed, still didn't know quite what to do with him though at least they were no longer openly dismissive. So he kept to speaking with those who actually wished to hear his words. To his surprise, the four who spoke to him were all genuinely sorry when he got around to explaining how much importance hobbit culture placed on being a good guest and good host. Bilbo felt a little silly for his mean thoughts now, but Fili assured him that any first impressions had been fair ones, as the dwarves had specifically set out to seem uncivilized in the hopes that no hobbit would consider coming with them. Though apparently, they would have considered going about it in another way if they had known, as they had not meant to commit an offence quite as grave as that. Of course Ori then jumped in to clarify that “But, everyone's happy that you decided to come, in the end. Or at least, Kili and Fili and I are, and everyone else will be too when they get to know you”. This prompted a protest from Bofur, “Hey, I can vouch for the 'Ur family, too. Bifur said you were a good choice when we were going through the troll cave, and Bombur said anyone with a pantry that well stocked, and being that willing to empty it had to be a good sort.”

Bilbo didn't say it, but he preened under that particular comment. He had a feeling Bombur was a kindred soul, and not just because of his girth. 

He could only forgive them in the end, and then join them as they laughed over the more interesting parts of the quest so far. Kili started developing a dramatic retelling of the troll incident, bouncing outlandish ideas and terrible jokes off of the rest. Bofur was no better, for all that he was the adult in the group, thinking up a few particularly bad Westron puns, and even some in Khuzdul that had Ori and Fili groaning, and Kili in hysterics. 

Even with the newfound connections, Bilbo could not spend his entire time around dwarves, not when he would be around them for the entire quest and this was one of the few opportunities he had to explore on his own. In all his time as a hobbit, Bilbo had never left the Shire, and as a dragon, he had only left his nesting grounds once, and he had been too distracted between the running, and the eventual “almost being melted to death” that had put a halt to everything. So he spent some time admiring the architecture, and searching out the library. Out of curiosity, he browsed the stacks for information on dragons. He wondered if there would be any notes on his race, or if ice drakes would be considered more secret than that. Bilbo had never cared to learn the details. 

One thing he wasn't expecting was to be confronted by Lord Elrond in the middle of flipping through one such tome. He squeaked in surprise, his hands instinctively flying up and throwing the book up in the air. His eye then caught the movement and he scrambled to catch it again, only to not move fast enough. Luckily, Elrond had much better reflexes and easily seized the thick book, closing it with a gentle snap.

Bilbo offered him a thankful nod, but unwilling to start the conversation. Not when he had no idea what the Lord of Rivendell would want to speak with him about. Fortunately, Elrond had no problem starting things off, somehow being both direct and polite.

“I must apologize for not speaking to you sooner, I admit that I did not recognize you at first.” Bilbo jumped at the words, glancing around them furiously for any sign of eavesdroppers. “Don't worry yourself, Bilbo. I have asked the librarian to close up and leave for a short while to offer us some privacy.” Bilbo blushed lightly, inwardly berating himself for thinking someone so obviously wise and old could make such an oversight. No doubt Lord Elrond was quite used to being discreet. 

“Ah, thanks, I guess. And, uh, I'm surprised you didn't guess, what with the nature of the quest.” Bilbo cleared his throat, suddenly a little nervous about conversing with such a powerful figure. It was true that Radagast and Gandalf were powerful in their own right- perhaps even more so- but they didn't cut the impressive figure that Lord Elrond cut. Or the rest of the White Council, really.

“Yes, well I had my suspicions, but last I remember, Gandalf was complaining about how you no longer felt the drive to face Smaug, and the rest of the council were reminding him that it was a good thing, since it wasn't a safe time to go after him. And Gandalf does have a bad habit of dragging hobbits on adventures, not just your adopted mother.” Bilbo grinned at the mention of Belladonna. 

“True that. And to tell the truth, I didn't really want to go. Gandalf sort of strong-armed me into it. I suppose I ought to see things through to at least free Erebor, but I'll miss Bagend terribly.”

Lord Elrond gave Bilbo a very curious look, one that almost didn't fit on his regal face. “Truly? Like I have said, we have heard Gandalf's words from his visits, but it is another thing to speak with the source. So you really do not wish to regain your form?”

The question made Bilbo uncomfortable, so he shrugged his shoulders awkwardly. “Not completely so, it is more complicated than that. I do miss my natural body, but I've spent more time in this one and I honestly don't mind it. It's a bit small and a lot weak, but it allows me to have friends and family, and a comfortable home with neighbours that tolerate me. I can't say I'd have any of those things after this quest is said and done.” 

Lord Elrond hummed lightly. He patted Bilbo's shoulder, gaze much more understanding than before. “I am sorry to hear that, though I can not deny your words. I must say, we made a very good bet indeed saving your life. Ice drakes were always the most reasonable dragon species, but I don't think anyone would have expected you to actually prefer such a gentle life.”

Bilbo scowled. “There's nothing wrong with a gentle life. Liking good food and good cheer is perfectly respectable to hobbits, and hobbits clearly have the most sense since they've avoided more petty bloodshed than any of the humanoid races.” To Bilbo's embarrassment, this only made Elrond laugh aloud. 

“Peace, Bilbo Baggins! I meant no offense, and in fact this is a great thing. If a dragon of all creatures can adopt such a lifestyle, then perhaps everyone else could afford to learn a lesson, even us elves. I must know though, how have you avoided your hoarding instinct? Is it muted in this form?”

Bilbo blushed cherry red again, both for jumping to conclusion and for causing such a laugh. “I.. I think it might be food. You probably know that Ice drakes are more reasonable precisely because we can settle on different things to hoard, right?”

Lord Elrond almost immediately shifted gears into a scholar mode. “Of course. I've hypothesized before that they learned to do so because their main habitat in the lands of ice has little in the way of accessible minerals. Picking a different type of hoard allowed your kind to be satisfied without leaving those lands and encountering competition.” Bilbo blinked at the complex string of words, taking a moment to make sense of it.

“Er, right, maybe. Gandalf told me he thought it might be because we're smaller than other dragons, so we had to work together to survive. But dragons who hoard the same thing and aren't mates can't stand to be near one another, so we learned to hoard different things. But that's not what I wanted to talk about.”

Lord Elrond agreed readily, though his eyes sparked with interest at the different argument. “Alright, continue then, if you would.”

“So, I'm not totally sure, but I think I may hoard food. I do enjoy having a lot of it, and I do like to call it my hoard, but truthfully, I don't mind sharing it and I've heard a hoard is something that we dragons are unbelievable selfish about. And my drive to hoard should have started sometime in the past 20 or 15 years- it's supposed to happen right before coming into proper adulthood.”

“Are you saying there's a chance that, if it isn't food, the instinct may have been put off in your form? That is worrying, indeed.” Lord Elrond furrowed his brows, which only confused Bilbo.

“What's worrying?”

“Well, if you're instinct has been put off, it might come into effect very soon after you return to your form. And when that happens, you will be facing Smaug, most likely in his treasury. I know you are a clever individual, but I wonder what effect that sudden onset of instincts will have if the first thing you are surrounded with is piles of gold.” 

Bilbo froze. “I never thought of that. I... that could be really bad.” He would like to think that he'd resist it- after all, Bilbo had never had a use for more money than required to live comfortably. And even then, he'd rather spend it on warm and comforting things than have it piled up in gold form. But hoarding was in his blood, it was not something he could escape. And there had been rare cases of ice drakes who hoarded gold- having the freedom to settle on other things did not exclude his kind from being similarly tempted. It was just that other dragons had no choice- they would always covet gold and jewels. 

Lord Elrond caught his distressed expression, and patted Bilbo's shoulder again. “I do not mean to worry you. Please, try to calm yourself. The White Council is here for a meeting in several days, and I do suspect that your company will leave sometime around then, lest the council decide to halt the quest. Of course, I'm sure both lady Galadriel and Saruman have their suspicions of what you are all here for. Regardless, I will talk to Gandalf before then, and hear his thoughts on the matter.”

Now that was an interesting surprise.“What? The rest of the White Council is here? Then that makes the last of those who helped me back then. I never thought I'd be meeting you all so soon into my journey.” It was especially strange, seeing as every one of them- the White Council plus Radagast- were very important people. Of course, for all his cryptic nonsense, Gandalf was much more accessible to normal folk. Radagast was only slightly less so, since he cared for animals and not for the impression he cast on folk- which was that of a crazy homeless man. 

“Oh, did you want to meet Galadriel and Saruman? I am sure they would not mind.” Bilbo gulped and shook his head. From his few memories, they had both been rather intimidating. Lady Galadriel with her overwhelming presense, and Saruman the white with his power and the respect he commanded with it. 

“No thank you, but send them my thanks when you see them. I believe Saruman the White, at least, had not wanted to save me.” 

To Bilbo's gratitude, Lord Elrond did not fight it, instead accepting Bilbo's words, though he added: “I am sure, however, that Galadriel would enjoy meeting you at least. I would bet that even Saruman would be curious, as I'm sure he had gotten over his initial arguments. After all, I too was at first against it, if you remember. It did not take so long for me to see reason, and so it must be the same for our leader.” 

“Er..” Bilbo mumbled, nervous again, “Thank you for those words, but I would still rather not. I'll probably see you all again if I survive this quest and everything goes the way it should, since I won't have anywhere to stay.” Lord Elrong only smiled gently at that, shaking his head.

“Do not worry, I promise that you will have a home in Rivendell, if you wish after this is all done- we have more than enough space for you to be comfortable even with your full size. Though I would not count the Shire lost to you just yet. Hobbits can be quite accepting folk when they want to be, yes?”

Bilbo's eyes widened. “Truly?” the only reaction he received was another quirk of Elrond's lips. “I thank you, then. But, as for the shire...”Bilbo shrugged, not believing him but also not wanting to actively argue against it. “Well, they can be, but a dragon would be pushing it.”

“But surely, they must suspect something, if not a dragon. You have lived in the same home this whole time after all, the one that Belladonna and Bungo Baggins left for you, yes? After 200 years, they would have to have noticed something strange.” It was Bilbo's turn to grin. Lord Elrond was absolutely correct. After all, the Shire-folk weren't stupid. They knew he wasn't a hobbit, or at least wasn't entirely one. No one could stay in one spot for two centuries using a body only designed to live through one without drawing attention. 

“You're right in some ways. It took a while after I came, since hobbits tend to not trust outsiders, and they knew something was strange from the beginning since I was brought to the shire by gandalf, and not from it. But by the time they noticed that I didn't age, they decided I looked hobbit and acted hobbit enough that I was enough of one to them, and so digging into my business would be dreadfully impolite.” Bilbo knew their opinions would probably change if they actually had a hint of his true form, so he was happy to accept their intentional ignorance. 

Lord Elrond beamed. “What a remarkable race, to be able to leave such a mystery like that, purely because you can coexist with them. I think I am beginning to see why Gandalf likes such trusting folk. Do they not have even rumours of you?” 

Bilbo couldn't help it- he tried to choke down a giggle. Oh, there were a fair amount of theories that he had overheard. The prevailing theory, was both the most amusing and the most innocent. “Of course they do- did Gandalf not tell you?” Lord Elrond easily caught on to the amusement now hanging thickly in the air, but it was clear he didn't know how to interpret it.

“No, I can't say he has.” Lord Elrond paused for a long moment as Bilbo bit his cheek to keep form snorting. “All Gandalf has ever said was that there were no suspicions that lay close to the truth.”

“Well of course he didn't,” Bilbo started cheerfully, forgetting all of his earlier awkward behaviour in the face of sharing a great joke in expense of another. “It's the only thing I have ever seen actually fluster the wizard.”

Elrond's eyebrows rose skyward, and despite his noble presence, he leaned down towards Bilbo like they were two youngsters swapping tales. “Truly?” Bilbo nodded eagerly. “Now, this I must hear!” 

Bilbo obligingly cleared his throat out and began. “ You see, according to the Shire's rumour mill, I am Gandalf's half hobbit, half wizard illegitimate son.” He paused to let that sink in, observing the immediate smirk that appeared on Lord Elrond before he wiped it away in a play at solemnity. “The hobbits developed this great story out of the whole thing, a full blown romantic tragedy. The only reason it's not written and in everyone's libraries is that they want to keep it a hobbit secret. I think a whole saga from the rumour might actually be written down in the old hobbit language somewhere, perhaps in old Took's library.” 

Personally, Bilbo found the story amusing, though he had only found out about it by eavesdropping on many a hushed conversations between lasses “Truthfully, I am not completely sure why, but Gandalf seems genuinely embarrassed whenever it comes up. He never does anything to stop it, since the rumour is at least something positive to hide behind.” Bilbo mockingly tapped his chin with one finger. “Though I do believe it has made him far more popular with the housewives and romantic tweens than he ever wanted to be.”

Lord Elrond laughed heartily, and Bilbo couldn't help but join in. “Amazing, I'll have to speak about it some time! The grey wizard is ever so fond of knocking people's feet out from under them, I will enjoy returning the favour.” 

Bilbo grinned widely, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time. “Then my revenge for his peace disturbing habits is complete.”

The next day, when Gandalf gave him the sourest look that would have been a pout on any other face, Bilbo could only think that it was totally worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i know this chapter has a severe case of telling, not showing. But there are entirely too many dwarves to show a slow friendship between them all. besides, I'm sure you've all read a lot of that sort of thing.
> 
> The rumour about Bilbo was actually inspired by a prompt somewhere on the 15th prompt post that asks for Bilbo to be the son of Gandalf and Belladonna, and Bungo is actually just a disguise Gandalf takes so they can spend her lifetime together. I might fill it one day (if I can get past the million other prompts I've promised myself). And also I couldn't help making Gandalf flustered by at least one thing, even if it doesn't seem in character (after all, Bilbo doesn't necessarily know ALL of the reasons that Gandalf is embarrassed by it)


	4. Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo uses his ice for the first time since becoming a hobbit, and then has a conversation with Gandalf

The ring. It was a nasty thing. He knew it from the second he looked at it. Everything about it screamed lust and possession and power. Bilbo shivered. This couldn't be what he thought it was, could it? He couldn't possibly be developing a gold hoard? But what else could call to him with such power? It was horribly clear in that moment- he held no such hoarding for food. As much as he liked eating, no meal had ever sung for him like this, songs of love and lust and begging to be owned.

Bilbo felt ripped in half, both wanting to pick it up and not wanting to touch it at all. The not-goblin would be back soon, he had to make up his mind. This wasn't an ordinary ring, there was some kind of power attached to it, though Bilbo was much too inexperienced to recognize it. And for all that Bilbo tried not to be influenced by the irrational desire to own it, he couldn't allow the not-goblin to keep it. Something told Bilbo that letting anyone hold it- even himself- would be a bad idea. 

So Bilbo swallowed thickly, and reached out for it. His fingers flinched scant centimetres from the golden band. The calling grew. He couldn't do it, the growing part of his mind that screamed to own it frightening him. He just wanted it to go away, along with the voices. Bilbo screwed his eyes shut, trying to draw up mental barriers. He surrounded his mind with the icy core of his power, radiating it through his body. Any pain from calling on it would be welcome compared to this torture. 

The power swirled under his skin. It was pure energy, rejoicing at being awoken and begging to be released. Bilbo could barely think, latching on to any instinct that wasn't about that damn ring. He didn't want to see it anymore, his minds eye pushing the image away with layer upon layer of dragon ice. 

Bilbo's eyes snapped open again when a hauntingly familiar tingle went down his arm and hand. He chased the feeling, pushing for more of it. It felt amazing, and he had felt it before, hadn't he? Only then it had been across his throat, when he'd been practising his ice. Slowly, Bilbo lifted his hand back. 

Where the ring once stood was now a solid sphere of ice. Bilbo scrambled back in a panic, hands to his mouth. It was dragon ice, it had to have come from him. Bilbo's heart ached at the sight. He barely even remembered what it looked like- similar to regular ice only crystal clear with the faintest swirls of silver. Of course, not that Bilbo could actually see any swirls, as they only showed when reflecting a great deal of light. 

“So, Gandalf was right. Of course he was.” Bilbo muttered, still staring at his creation. Upon second glance, he realized the ring had been suspended in the centre. That was good, for dragon ice was much stronger than regular ice. It would not melt easily, only to Bilbo's will or heat strong enough to melt steel. It was probably less likely to break than steel, too. Not that Bilbo's birth parents had ever told him any specifics. They wouldn't have known what steel was, anyways. 

The other benefit of course, was that the ring's call was muffled. It was surrounded by a blanket of Bilbo's very own power. This eased the frantic nature of his mind, and though the urge was still there it was easily manageable. And now he didn't need to touch it, either. Bilbo plucked the nearly perfect sphere, it was about the size of his close fist. As an extra precaution, Bilbo took off his now filthy cravat and tied it around the ice, covering it from view. He then knotted the other end to one of the belt loops in his trousers so that his jacket would conceal the lump. There it could rest with minimal contact form Bilbo until he found Gandalf again, who would surely know what to do with the thing. 

Of course, no sooner did he smooth his jacket back over the ice in question when the not-goblin returned. Never had Bilbo been so glad to have the extended childhood he had, and the boredom that came with it. For that made him quite more clever at riddles than he might otherwise be. Not that it mattered moments later when the creature became enraged at its loss and launched after him. 

Bilbo scuttled back in a panic, desperately squishing his way through a narrow crevice at the loss of his fine metal buttons. He barely spared them a glance, as desperate as he was to escape. The not-goblin howled after him. It had a much better time of the crevice than Bilbo, its overlong claws scratching at the rock Bilbo had fallen against not a second ago. 

He tried to run. The problem was that this creature was incredibly fast for being little more than a skeleton. All it took was one strong wrist to grab his ankle and Bilbo was down, the sharp cave floor bruising his face. Still, Bilbo struggled, turning onto his back and lifting his arms up to fend off the limbs seeking to scratch, snap, and choke. 

Maybe it was because he had just unlocked his ice. Or perhaps the fault was more to do with the adrenaline and the thought of dying down here, all alone with none of the company knowing where he was. Either way, when Bilbo cried out in pain, he felt the cool tingle across his throat and the expulsion of something. The creature matched his cry with a squeal of its own, stumbling back. Bilbo wasted no time, crawling to his feet and sprinting off. He did take one glance, and was gratified to see the not-goblin scratching at its face, where the ice pellets expelled from his breath had lodged themselves. 

Bilbo ran, weaving through the luckily simple tunnels. His breath turned ragged, and for all that he could apparently use his ice again, he was well out of practise. He felt the uncomfortable, sticky warmth inside that said his core was depleted for now. It seemed that even when the core was healed, this body could barely use it. Not that the fact surprised him. 

After some truly dreadful minutes, Bilbo miraculously found the exit. Even more miraculous, he found the company only a short run downhill from his position. He was so relieved he barely paid any attention to Thorin's hurtful words- they were nothing compared to how crummy Bilbo had felt after the stone giants. 

Besides, Thorin's almost guilty look when Bilbo burst on the scene was worth it. Gandalf whipped around in the direction of the noise, his eyes softening immediately on seeing Bilbo's entrance. Bilbo smiled and nodded in turn, glad that someone was happy to see him back. Granted, most of the others seemed pleased as well, save for Thorin, and perhaps the Groin and Fundin brothers. 

And then, when Bilbo challenged Thorin's statement with a declaration of his own, even they had looked a little positive at his presence. Gandalf raised his eyebrows in amused interest, no doubt wanting to tease the dragon that was sentimental at being reunited with his friendly dwarves. 

But that reminded him. “Gandalf, I found something in those caves.” Gandalf caught the worry in Bilbo's voice, focusing on him.

“What was it?” At Gandalf's question, Bilbo's hand immediately went to his back, touching the concealed lump. With a silent curse, Bilbo realized he couldn't exactly hand it over now, not with the dwarves looking. Even if there wasn't the extremely conspicuous ice, he knew how dwarves could be with gold. Bilbo didn't want them following temptation any more than he wanted himself to follow.

“Err, I'll show you later. It's... ice box business.” Gandalf still looked concerned, but now his eyes twinkled and he smiled.

“Is it now? I shall have to take you up on that.” The sounds of howling wargs filled the air. “Now, let's make haste.” No one fought Gandalf on that suggestion, streaking down the hill as a unit. 

Bilbo may have been pushed into using his ice in the following events, as life threatening and adrenaline pumping as they were. Even with the residual fear of the possibility of soul shattering pain, it probably would have come out just as it had come out against the creature. But he had been drained on that front. 

It should have made him feel vulnerable and helpless, not having his ice as an option. But Bilbo had lived two entire centuries without it, so when it didn't come to his desperate call, he didn't spare it a thought, instead doing whatever he could as a hobbit. And it turned out, he could do quite a lot as a hobbit. No one could blame Bilbo for positively melting into Thorin's hold as he apologized. A welcome warmth, very different from the warmth of ice exhaustion, spread through him. It was acceptance. 

“Bilbo.” A hand too large to be dwarf tapped at his shoulder. Bilbo groaned from his place of rest- a rock outcropping just under the carrock they had been left at. Everyone was so tired that even Bilbo hadn't complained at the rocky bed and lack of supplies. It was Gandalf- who else could it be? Bilbo closed his bleary eyes again.

“Now, we'll have none of that. I'm sorry for waking you up, my lad, but you mentioned problems with your ice box?” Gandalf whispered. Right, right. Ice box, the term they used to represent dragon business in public. Bilbo hauled himself into a sitting position, glancing around. No one was awake to be suspicious, though Bilbo had remembered getting a few looks when he mentioned the ice box earlier. After all, the term made no sense out on the road like this. Though in the shire it was a perfect disguise- it was easy for hobbits to believe that Gandalf might be using magic to fix Bilbo's appliances. He was Gandalf's son, after all. 

Bilbo nearly snorted at that again, finally standing on two feet. “Alrigh', less go.” he slurred, screwing his eyes. Trying to wake up, Bilbo patted the ice again, and yes, it was still there, still concealed. Gandalf's eyes narrowed in on the action, no doubt easily picking out the circular lump. 

They didn't walk too far, just far enough to guarantee that no dwarves would overhear even if they were somehow to awake. Bilbo let out a large yawn, wincing halfway through as the accompanying stretch pulled at an injury. Gandalf, for his part, looked sufficiently sympathetic. “Sorry to wake you up when you need sleep so much. But this is the best time to not be overheard, let it not be said that I don't value your secret.” Luckily, Gandalf had come to spot with a long rock sufficiently sized and textured to be a seat for both of them. Bilbo sat down on one end gratefully, Gandalf taking a spot beside him so as not to appear so tall.

Bilbo grudgingly nodded. Gandalf had always been the best keeper of his secret, if only because he meddled the most and was therefore most often put into the position of actively having to keep it. “My ice came to me in the caves. I had to use it to fight off a creature I encountered.

Gandalf was interested, but clearly not surprised. “Yes, well, I did tell that at Bag End. And I wouldn't have considered this quest if you weren't ready for it. But I suspect you knew that as well.”

“On some level. But you have to understand- that time when I wasn't ready, it hurt as badly as Smaug's flame. You can't just rationalize that sort of fear away.” Gandalf grimaced at this, but tilted his head slightly in acquiescence. Gandalf himself had probably been in many painful near death experiences, no doubt he sympathized on some level beneath all those layers of manipulation and detached wisdom. 

Bilbo steeled himself, not wanting to even think about what he was about to speak of. “There was something else. I found this ring down there.” Bilbo had never seen Gandalf's eyes go so round. 

“A ring?” He was rigid. Was that a hint of fear? In Gandalf? Then he must know something about it. 

Bilbo untied his cravat, pulling the bundle out in front of them. “It wasn't a normal thing, Gandalf. It kept trying to lure me. I know there's some kind of compulsion on it, but I'm afraid it might be kick starting my hoarding instinct. It was all I could do not to grab it.” He peeled the cloth off and presented the ice bound ring. Gandalf reached a hand out to touch it, only to flinch back with a gasp. Bilbo made a noise in confusion, but Gandalf only shook his head.

“It's dragon ice, Bilbo. Much too cold. It was foolish for me to forget that and touch it, anyone else would have an instant frost burn.” Gandalf's fingers did look a touch red.

“Oh, I am so sorry.” Bilbo apologized sheepishly. He then looked at the orb. “I... I can melt it down if you need.” Left unsaid was that he really, really did not want to. It would leave him defenceless to those terrible voices again. 

“That is quite alright, Bilbo. It may be for the best in it's current position. No doubt your ice halts any powers of suggestion?” Bilbo nodded rapidly.

“You know what it is, then? It was absolutely dreadful. I felt like I'd be sucked in if I ever actually touched it. But the worst was that part of me was okay with that. Is that what a true hoarding feels like, Gandalf?” Bilbo placed the ice between them and drew his knees up to his chest, curling in for comfort.

Said wizard remained silent for a time. “I am not sure exactly what that ring is, but I do know of magic rings, which this most certainly must be, and there are only so many magic rings. In which case, you are strong indeed, Bilbo Baggins, for resisting it. You know how much more dragons are susceptible to such things.” 

“I.. actually, no, I didn't? I know we hoard, I know what we can do, but beyond that?” Gandalf gave Bilbo an exceedingly sad look, one that cut deep. Grandfatherly people like Gandalf weren't supposed to be sad, but he supposed being an ancient immortal wizard, Gandalf would have plenty of cause to be sad. 

He patted Bilbo's shoulder, even more gently then before when he was waking Bilbo. “I am sorry. Sometimes I forget how young and alone you are. Well, less alone now I should hope, but I suppose dwarves are not the same as your own kind.”

“Now you get it.” Bilbo joked but it fell flat. The tone was too grim. 

“It has to do with how dragons were made.” Gandalf started. Bilbo was about to tell him there was no need, but the wizard had put on his stubborn mask. There would be no stopping it. “You see, dragons aren't necessarily evil on their own, but they were created by evil and for evil, which makes stepping away from evil a fight against one's nature. It is the same with enchantments. Your race was designed to be under them, so it is hard to resist. This is actually the core of your hoarding power. You focus all the temptation, all the compulsion and obsession that was built in your soul into a material thing.”

Bilbo shivered at the explanation. “That sounds horrible. You make it sound like I have no free will at all. Am I to be a slave to my hoard, then?” 

Gandalf gave him another sad look. “It is hard to fight what is in your very nature. But you can fight it, the fact that you are here now with free will is testament to that- everything that lives can be dark or light.”

“I just have a lot more darkness than everything else?” Bilbo was extremely uncomfortable with the idea. Anyone would be, hearing such talk.

“I wouldn't say that. Dragons are one of the more foul of dark creatures, but you are hardly dark at all. Much of that is definitely your time in the Shire, but I also suspect that the ice drakes were already a bit different from other dragons.”

“Well obviously,” Bilbo couldn't help but snap. “We breathe ice, hoard what we want, and live in groups. If we weren't so different, I doubt the others would have banded to kill us.”

“Exactly. The ice drakes descended from the fire breathers. What could have brought out such a change in power, but in the purposeful altering of their very essence? I suspect the first ice drakes were merely rejecting what controlled them, too arrogant to be slaves. And in that struggle, they were not completely freed, but changed to be partially so.”

“That sounds rather presumptuous to me.” Gandalf chuckled at Bilbo's words. “Though I suppose it might explain why we are more free in our hoarding but still chained to it. But that doesn't change that we can still hoard gold, and that's what I'm worried about.” 

In a rare display, Gandalf leaned over to hug Bilbo, careful to avoid the ice though it was again bound in the cravat. “I am confident that you don't and never will hoard gold, Bilbo. The pull of a magic ring is already strong for someone like you. I'm afraid you would have been easily overcome if you had to fight the hoarding instinct as well. Besides, you are still more of a hobbit than a dragon, and what kind of respectable hobbit cares more for gold than good food and good company?” 

Bilbo laughed. “I guess. That doesn't mean I'm not going to be worried about Erebor, still.” 

“As you shouldn't. It's that concern which will keep you safe. Besides, I imagine that when the time truly comes, you will be able to make the choice yourself, on some level.”

Bilbo huffed. “I hope you're right, or we'll have a bigger problem when I get released. Unless of course your backup plan is for Smaug and I to kill each other.” 

Gandalf pushed Bilbo back lightly. “What do you take me for? I would not be so unthinking for the last of a species, and you are more than just that.” He admonished. 

“Well, whatever. It's far too early for having a heart to heart.” Bilbo couldn't think of anything else to say, plus he really was exhausted. “So you'll take the ring? Tied in the cloth, it shouldn't bother you.” 

Gandalf gave it another considering look. “I'm not entirely too sure about that. I can still feel something coming from it, though your ice obscures it. You forget that wizards too are susceptible to power.” 

“But you'd have to go through plenty of trouble to release it, whereas all I have to do is touch and will it be so. And I'm not confident I can keep it hidden, as large as it is.” 

Gandalf slowly nodded. “I see, Bilbo. You are more wise than you think. In truth it is not safe for either of us, though I suppose you have a point.” Slowly, Gandalf reached for the ends of the cravat, dangling the sphere. “Very well, I will hold onto it, at least until we have reached a safe place.” He carefully tucked the bundle into his robes after knotting the cloth more tightly. 

“You mean there is a safe place for us?” Bilbo enquired as they made their way back to the camp. Thankfully, every dwarf was fast asleep in the same positions as before. 

“Yes, however you need your sleep. I shall tell you more of the matter tomorrow.” For once, Bilbo had no objections to Gandalf's longstanding habit of withholding information. Just having the confirmation and the chance to rest was enough. Bilbo collapsed into his rough sleeping space as gently as he could manage. With rough stone for a mattress and his jacket for a pillow, Bilbo slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while since last update. And oh look, exposition again. That conversation sure did come right out of my butt at the last moment. But it makes sense. And here we can see the diverging from canon (you know, besides the whole 'bilbo is a dragon'). Also I don't know a lot about middle earth lore, but I'm pretty sure dragons were created to be evil, so we sort of needed to know what sets ice drakes apart. This might also explain a bit about why such animosity exists between ice and the other types (the other reason was stated before- they are best at killing each other and thus are each other's greatest threat and predator)
> 
> also, if my counting is correct, as of this update I've reached 100 000 words combined from all my stories, which is pretty cool.


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